Young Love: Improved
by OtterPatronus
Summary: This is my improved version of 'Young Love! This is set around five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and is based on Ron and Hermione's adventures together. I plan to go right up until the epilogue (please note: there may be large time jumps). Please follow, favourite and leave feedback as it's always appreciated (even criticism)! You can tweet me: @Otter Patronus


Ron woke up feeling unusually happy. He looked over at Harry's bed, which was, of course, empty. He'd probably gone somewhere with Ginny again. The duvet had been thrown back and his pyjamas were strewn along the floor next to it, along with a... Was that a bra? No, it couldn't be. Ron squinted and saw that, in actual fact, it was a bra. Ginny's bra, no less. "Bloody git." Ron mumbled, climbing out of bed. He pulled off his still-too-small pyjamas and threw on a jumper and a pair of ripped jeans. He tucked a small, black box into the pocket. Just in case. He rarely bothered to dress nicely, these days, unless he was going somewhere with Hermione. Their relationship status was kind of undecided - but Ron knew where he was headed. The couple had discussed marriage one or two times, and Ron planned to make it official at last. He flattened down his ginger hair and pulled open the blue curtains. It was surprisingly early, it being nine o'clock, but the house was still empty and silent. Everyone had, for some reason, gone out. Ron pulled open the door and headed downstairs to the kitchen. The old stairs creaked as his huge feet thumped down them. Ron arrived in the kitchen to see Hermione clearing away her plate. "Morning," he smiled, walking over to give her a kiss. He often forgot how small and frail she was - especially since the war. His eyes traced along her slender curves and then back up to her thin, pale face.

"Your breakfast is in the oven," she announced, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Oh, uhh thanks," he stuttered. Hermione took Ron's hand and squeezed it gently, sending a feeling of warmth and comfort through Ron's body.

"I'm alright, you know?" she whispered. He swore that she could read his mind. It annoyed him at times, but it was often surprisingly reassuring. God, how he loved her. He loved everything about her. Even directly after the war ended, he was more than happy to be woken up by her screams of torture every night and then sit holding her throughout the rest of the night - it made him feel at home. It made him feel wanted, like he could do some good in the world. Yes, okay, it sounds selfish, but he would rather him comfort her then anyone else. Ron often thought that he was the only person that could hear her screams - even now when her nightmares reappeared occasionally. Sometimes they were worse than other times, and sometimes they were so bad that she refused to sleep for days on end. He still had to look after her, no matter how much she insisted that she wasn't a child and didn't need to be under Ron's watchful eye 24/7. "Hello?" Ron's head spun back into the present once again when Hermione had abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts by loudly clicking her fingers next to his ear. "Breakfast. Oven. Eat." She gestured to the oven where he saw a large plate of sausage, bacon and egg heating inside.

"Alright, missy. Calm down." Ron teased, walking across the kitchen and pulling the plate out. He'd eaten everything within mere minutes.

"So what are your plans for today?" Hermione pulled up a chair next to him and sat down. She always did everything so gracefully - just one other thing that Ron loved about her.

"Nothing, really." He replied, wiping his sleeve over his mouth to clear a splodge of ketchup. That wasn't true, though. He'd planned something for today. Given what he had planned, maybe he should've put a bit more effort into his outfit. And maybe he should have showered, too. It wasn't too late, was it? "I think I might shower." Ron stood up so abruptly that his chair fell over. He blushed and picked it up again before hastily exiting the room, leaving Hermione confused.

* * *

Now clean, Ron slipped on a clean, red t-shirt (one that showed off his muscle) and a much neater, cleaner pair of jeans. He threw on his trainers and neatened his hair with a quick spell. He put his hand over the lump of the small black box in his left pocket, and took a breath. _You can do this._ He said to himself over and over, before he heard the door push open. "Are you okay?" Hermione's soft voice filled his ears, catching him by surprise. "You were taking a while so I thought I should check on you."  
Ron looked over at her to see her mouth turned up slightly at the corners. She was doing that smile again. The one he loved, where her eyes smiled with the rest of her and her mouth was ever-so-slightly lopsided. "I'm fine," Ron cleared his throat and walked towards her, placing his large hands on her waist. "How about we go for a walk?" he suggested. He didn't want to do what he was about to do in his house - let alone his bedroom doorway. Where should he take her? He had a sudden burst of inspiration.

"What are you smirking about?" Hermione asked, folding her arms as Ron released her waist.

"Come with me!" Ron said excitedly, grabbing her hand. Her practically dragged her through the house, out the front door, across the fields in front of his house and over to a gravelly path in the forest. This was it. He was about to ask the big question. He smiled has his big, rough hand enveloped her small, soft one. He slowed his pace and allowed her to catch up.

"Where are we going?" she asked curiously. Ron noticed her look around like she was in some kind of foreign country. "I didn't know there was a forest here." She narrowed her eyes slightly. Whether she was getting annoyed or just squinting at the sunlight filtering in through the trees, Ron didn't know. But what he _did _know is that he was ready. As ready as he'd ever be. He continued to pull her gently through the forest for at least another half hour. He liked leaving her in suspense, being in control. "Let's stop here," Ron suggested, releasing Hermione's hand and settling down on a stray log lying on the side of the path. He picked at the grass in front of him, waiting for Hermione to sit down.

"Ronald," she began with a sigh. "What's the point in going for a walk if we're just going to sit down on a log?" she hesitantly sat next to him, waiting for a response. But she didn't get one. Ron just chuckled. Mainly out of nerves, admittedly, but it was still a chuckle none-the-less. "Where are we, anyway?" She looked around her once more at the great, oak trees towering above them. You could tell that it was Autumn as red and brown leaves were littered across the forest floor, and there was a certain chill in the air that made Ron wish he'd brought a coat. Hearing Hermione's shivers, he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, her brown bushy hair tickling his chin as he did so. "Any particular reason you've brought me out here?" she asked, pulling away. Ron looked over at her to see her hands clasped nervously on her knees. She knew what was coming. And he knew that she knew that. He'd learnt to read her body language. But still, Ron said nothing. He was almost too nervous to speak. His throat felt like sandpaper and his hands shook violently, so he shoved them into his pockets to try and hide it. He felt the small box and rubbed his thumb over the smooth, velvety texture. "Ronald?" Hermione asked again. He felt her place a hand on his upper arm and squeeze it gently. "What is it?"

Ron could hear - almost _feel _- the concern in her voice. She worried too much. She really did. Even though it had now been over six years since the war ended, she still kept her wand on hand at _all_ times (not an exaggeration - Ron swore he saw her take it into the shower with her once) and flinched at sudden noises or movement. He turned his head away from her, staring at the forest floor. He took a deep breath before standing up and walking over to be in front of Hermione. He couldn't help but plaster a shaky grin to his face as he watched her deep brown eyes stare up at him in confusion, concern and curiosity. He did his best to ignore her pleas for explanation as he lowered himself onto one knee in front of her. _You're really about to do this_. He opened his mouth, speaking through his sawdust-filled throat:  
"Hermione Jean Granger: I have loved you for years now, and I plan to love you for years more. I was _going _to say that I've loved you ever since I first laid my eyes on you, but we both know that's not quite true. Anyway, I was going to ask you something." Ron produced the tiny black box out of his left pocket, and Hermione raised one of her eyebrows in confusion, but smiled at the same time: she knew what was coming. "So, what I suppose I'm trying to say is... will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" Ron opened the box and revealed a beautiful, small silver ring and watched as Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth. The twigs on the floor dug into Ron's knee making the position rather uncomfortable as he waited for a response.

"Ron!" Hermione squealed. "Oh, Ronald!" she threw herself forward and Ron felt her thin arms wrap around his shoulders. "I love you so much!" Her lips crashed to his, and her tongue ran along his lips as she begged for entry. He allowed it, and groaned as her tongue roamed his mouth. He was so lost in the moment that he almost forgot the pain of the twigs digging into his skin. Out of nowhere, there was a loud, deep rumble of thunder somewhere in the distance. Ron felt Hermione pull away, her hands still resting on his shoulders. He looked up and watched as the rain came pouring down onto them. It was seconds before he realised something: she'd never given him an answer. Well, not directly at least. "So," Ron looked back at Hermione. "what's your answer?"

"Yes! Yes yes yes yes!" she squealed, throwing her arms around him once again.

Ron gaped in surprise. He had a feeling she would say that, but at the same time he didn't actually _expect_ it.

"Really?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Of course!" Hermione responded. "One thousand times _yes_!"

Their small moment ended when Ron heard Hermione's teeth chattering from the cold. "We'd better head back," he pointed out, pulling both himself and Hermione back to a standing position. "No one will be home for hours yet." He winked suggestively, taking Hermione's hand in his own.

"But, Ronald," Hermione started as they began to walk. "Why here? Why the forest?"

Ron glanced down at her, ready to give his explanation. At heart, he honestly was a cheesy romantic.

"Remember when we went looking for horcruxes?" (_Stupid question, of course she bloody does_, he mentally hit himself.) "Well, when came back to you and Harry after I left, you were in The Forest of Dean, correct?"

"Correct." Hermione responded.

"Well that's why. Forests are special to me. To _us_. I feel like they mean something."

"You really are quite cheesy, Ronald," Hermione laughed. "But I love you all the same." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek before they continued to walk through the wet leaves back to The Burrow.


End file.
